


The Downsides of Being a Teacher

by Glisseo



Series: Further Education [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Professor Potter AU, Teacher!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 01:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19189060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glisseo/pseuds/Glisseo
Summary: Apparently once you're a teacher, you sort of always have to be a teacher, even it when it means raining on everyone's parade.





	The Downsides of Being a Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on tumblr about one of Harry's students sneaking into Hogsmeade and coming across him.   
> I hate titles, I really do

The first leaves were beginning to fall in Hogsmeade; aside from their rich russet and gold hue, that was the only sign of autumn on what might otherwise have been a Saturday in mid-July, the sun perhaps a little lower but the air still warm, even before noon. Harry took one look at the startlingly blue expanse of sky stretching above the rooftops, only a few frail wisps of cloud trailing across it, and left his jacket on the hook. It wouldn’t last long - now they were into October, the days would soon be getting shorter and as they moved towards the winter months, weather could be dire in the Highlands - but for now, Harry reminded himself, for now it was a sunny Saturday and he was going to have a pint with his best friend. He wondered idly if there might be any free seats outside the pub.    
  
There was a very great difference between leaving the house with children and leaving it without. Leaving with - no matter how short the distance or how lengthy the stay - meant bags stuffed with other bags packed with essentials for every possible incident that might arise, even though his daughter was now eight and the need for nappies and milk and a travel-sized bottle of Mrs Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover was long gone. But Lily and Al were at their grandparents’ today, so Harry stepped out of his front door with nothing but his wand and wallet, hands in his pockets as he strolled up the lane, pausing to admire next door’s hydrangeas splashing colour over the stone garden wall before turning into the main street that ran through the village, feeling very light and carefree. Up at the school, he imagined many students would be out in the grounds, talking to Hagrid, even dipping their feet in the lake: it was still early in the term, not yet time to fret about exams … well, unless you were Hermione.    
  
He liked the village on days like these. It was a world away from London in more ways than one, like something from another century: little old witches crossing the square carrying their shopping baskets; a tiny toddler on a toy broomstick zooming around their mother’s ankles as she read a notice in the post office window; a wizard sitting outside his house with a newspaper while a mangle turned itself beside him, washing his clothes. As Harry passed, various shopkeepers waved at him or called out a greeting - Madam Garner, the jolly woman who ran the bakery, Letitia from Shear Magic, the hairdresser’s, old Mr Dervish as he tidied up the display outside his shop. Eleven years since they’d left Cornwall, the Potters were as much a part of the community as anyone else.    
  
Ron was already at the Three Broomsticks when Harry reached it, having not only bagged a table outside but already got the drinks in. A tall pint glass slid across its surface towards Harry as he swung his legs over the rickety wooden bench.    
  
“Cheers,” said Harry, taking an inelegant slurp from the brimming glass so as to avoid spilling any and wiping the foam moustache from his upper lip.    
  
“Nice, innit,” said Ron, nodding at the sun-dappled cobblestones. He rubbed self-consciously at the scars that twisted around his forearms, bared by his short-sleeved t-shirt.    
  
“Lovely,” Harry agreed.    
  
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, soaking up the atmosphere and beer. In Diagon Alley Harry would have felt uncomfortably exposed sitting out here in the open, but the people of Hogsmeade were used to him now and didn’t bat an eyelid. In fact, they were rather protective of him and his desire for a quiet life. If ever a journalist came sniffing around, the villagers soon saw them off, usually by maintaining they’d never heard of anyone called Harry Potter. “Do you mean Barry Trotter, above the florist’s?” Needless to say, the reporters weren’t especially interested in talking to Barry, nor in viewing his collection of antique Portkeys.     
  
“What’re the terrible twosome up to today, then?” Harry asked, when they’d reduced the amount of beer in their glasses somewhat.    
  
The terrible twosome were Ron and Hermione’s children, Hugo and Rose. They were not at all terrible, although Rose had recently learned about strikes and was boycotting all forms of reading. Neither her school nor Hermione were best pleased.    
  
“Homework project,” said Ron, “allegedly. But the kids down the road got these things that kind of shoot water …”   
  
“Super Soaker,” Harry supplied helpfully.   
  
“If you say so - anyway, Hugo’s been trying to make one of his own when Hermione’s not looking. I let him use the shed. So Rosie’s protest is pretty convenient for him, ‘cos Hermione’s preoccupied with that and hasn’t noticed him taking the soap dispenser apart to see how it squirts stuff.”   
  
Harry laughed. Rose and Hugo were his and Ginny’s godchildren, and their three were much closer to them than any of their other cousins - and certainly got on better than he and Dudley had, even though they’d grown up in the same house. Ron and Hermione lived in a village called Little Kingshill, which was only about twenty minutes’ drive from Hermione’s parents in Beaconsfield. It was a very nice place (and had a good pub, the Full Moon, whose landlords - as far as they knew - weren’t lycanthropic), but had the disadvantage of being a very long way from Hogsmeade. They could Floo, of course, but James suffered from horrible Floo-sickness and they usually spent the first ten minutes of any visit to Little Kingshill apologising and trying to clean up the mess. 

"That reminds me …" He dug in his back pocket and produced a tightly folded wedge of paper, labelled robustly in coloured pencil:  _ DO NOT REED, STRICKTLY CONFIDENSHUL.  _ "Lily wanted you to pass this on to Hugo. She says he'll know what it means, but she wrote it in code, so I don't think even she knows what it means."

Ron, well acquainted with the oddities of their offspring, just nodded. "Master spy in the making, d'you reckon?"

"Or criminal," said Harry, thinking of Lily's increasingly cunning attempts to filch biscuits before supper. "She also said that Uncle Ron must absolutely not read it first or she'll tell Nana what happened at Christmas." He punctuated this with a questioning look at Ron.

"Oh, right. She caught me in the biscuit tin," said Ron. "While on her way there herself, I might add, but she said I had no proof of that."

Harry mentally added bribery and corruption to his daughter's list of hobbies.   
  
“How’s school? Any really bad ones this year?”   
  
“Well, Freddie’s there." He didn’t really need to say much else: George’s son Freddie had the energy of twelve children, all on a sugar high. He’d been sorted into Slytherin, which didn’t have the same implications it had when he’d first started teaching, partly due to his own efforts. Harry could see why - Freddie had lots of big ideas - but he struggled to concentrate on schoolwork and had already landed a detention for disrupting several classes in a row. (“It makes it very hard for the other students to work,” Cadmus Heyes, Charms teacher, had informed Harry.    
  
“I’m not head of Slytherin,” said Harry testily. He did not like Heyes anymore than when he had started working at Hogwarts.   
  
“You’re his uncle.”   
  
“I’m a lot of people’s uncle these days. I don’t want to hear your problems with every single person I’m related to.”)   
  
Now, Harry went on: “Freddie isn’t  _ bad _ , though. He’s just … lively.”   
  
“Aahh, I would’ve loved to see Snape try and handle him,” said Ron wistfully. “Mind you, he’d probably have quit on the spot when you were hired … hey, isn’t that Ted?”   
  
Theoretically, one could point at any given person and suppose that it might be Ted Lupin, but he tended not to ‘faff about’, as he put it, with morphing, and when he twisted round in his seat Harry could see that the figure Ron was pointing out did look a lot like him. Probably, he considered as he squinted in the sunshine, because it was: tall and lanky at eighteen, heading in their direction in his long loping gait. He had company, was laughing at something they’d said, but the light was reflecting off their fair hair and obscuring their face.    
  
Teddy. In Hogsmeade. With a fair-haired person. It didn’t take a former Auror to work that one out, though fortunately there were two of them there. Ted and Victoire seemed to have come from the memorial gardens and were meandering towards the pub, hand in hand and blissfully oblivious to Ron and Harry watching them approach. Harry swore.

“What? I didn’t think you minded those two together,” said Ron. “I thought they’d split up, though.”   
  
“They had, but that’s not … it’s not a Hogsmeade weekend, Victoire shouldn’t be out of school,” Harry said, gritting his teeth. He really didn’t like being strict, and he definitely didn’t want to chastise his niece for doing something he was sure a fair few Hogwarts students were guilty of (himself included), but rules were rules, and he was a teacher now … If he admitted it to himself, he was also a little hurt that Ted was in Hogsmeade and hadn’t dropped by the house. He’d started studying to be a Healer at St. Catherine’s in Edinburgh in September and Harry hadn’t seen much of him since, bar the occasional Floo call.    
  
He and Victoire stopped outside the pub and seemed to be debating whether to sit inside or not. “If they don’t see us, I can claim I never saw Victoire, right?” Harry whispered to Ron. “As long as none of the staff -”   
  
There is a curious phenomenon, termed Autosomal Compelling Helio-Ophthalmic Outburst syndrome, in which a person looking into bright light will suddenly sneeze. Harry didn’t suffer from it, but Ron did, and as he looked into the sunlight and was overcome with an explosive sneeze, Ted and Victoire automatically glanced over at the source of the noise. They stared at Harry and Ron, who stared back.    
  
“Erm,” said Ted. Victoire made no noise, but Harry thought he saw her expansively mouth the word  _ ‘bollocks’.  _

"All right, lovebirds?" said Ron cheerfully. "How long've you two been back together, then?"

"Oh no, we're not -" Victoire began, as Teddy said, “Just a month or so -”

They both fell abruptly silent, exchanging wide-eyed looks. 

"Oh, right," said Ron, pulling a comical face at Harry. "Glad everyone's on the same page there."

Victoire turned to Harry, anxious.    
  
“I’m sorry, I know we’re not meant to leave the grounds but Ted only had this weekend free and we really needed to talk …”   
  
“We have that rule for a reason, Vic,” said Harry. “Especially when you’re still underage. While you’re at school, you’re in our care. What if there was a fire in the castle? Does anyone else know where you are right now?”   
  
Victoire mumbled something about having told her friend Nisha. “Please don’t tell my parents,” she pleaded, fixing Harry with her intense blue-eyed gaze, very like her mother’s. “Dad will be furious -”   
  
“Tell him he’s a hypocrite, then,” Ron chipped in, unexpectedly. “He got Charlie out of school on his seventeenth and took him to the Hog’s Head. And I’m pretty sure Percy said when he was in first year he caught Bill trying to sneak out with his girlfriend.”   
  
Harry could well imagine an eleven year old Percy confronting his much cooler older brother. He could also imagine Bill putting him firmly in his place. 

Victoire was clearly filing this information away for use at a later date. 

"We can stay then, can't we?" Ted said, addressing Harry. "Just for one drink at least?"

Harry felt like the worst person in the world, faced with their young, hopeful expressions. "No," he said heavily. "Sorry, but if anyone found out … I can't be seen bending the rules for anyone, let alone my own niece."

"But -"

"No, don't … I want you to take Victoire back to school, now."

Teddy Lupin was a blessing of a godson: naturally good-tempered, rarely cross. Harry could tell that he was struggling now with being able to see Harry's reasoning, but also with the simple fact of being eighteen and having to do something he didn't want to. He frowned at Harry - the closest he got to scowling - and turned away.

"Come round later, if you like," Harry called after him. He didn't get a response. Sighing, he picked up his pint, which was nowhere near full enough. 

"I'm not looking forward to having teenagers," said Ron, watching Ted and Victoire's retreating figures. "And Teddy's probably as good as it gets. Rosie's got Mum's temper."

"I think it's worse having them at different stages," Harry mused. "I've got James at one end just going in and Teddy on the other practically a grown-up. And I don't know how to handle either of them."

"That looked all right to me."

"Yeah, I know, but … oh I dunno, I just feel like I hardly see Ted these days and when I do I'm raining on his parade. It's hard watching him grow up, y'know? And it's not like I'm his dad …"

"You're as good as."

Harry smiled weakly. "Thanks, but it makes me question if I'm doing the right thing more than I do with James, I think. 'Cos I can't help thinking, what would Remus and Tonks do? I mean, it seems like only yesterday I was eighteen and sneaking Ginny out -”   
  
“You what?” said Ron sharply.    
  
“Out … of … chastity club,” Harry said. “No … that’s not better. Look, she was of age and we just went for a drink … speaking of drinks, want another?” he added hopefully, leaping to his feet before Ron could respond one way or another and promptly tripping over the bench.    
  
It took him a while to get served, and when the barman finally got to him Hannah Longbottom came out from the back, which meant a further five minutes looking at pictures of six month old Frances (who was, Harry could not deny, adorable beyond belief). When he emerged from the dimly lit pub - blinking in the sudden brightness - he found that Ron had been joined by someone else. Teddy squinted up at him, inscrutable.    
  
Feeling very guilty still for ruining his date, Harry offered to get him a drink as well, but he shook his head.    
  
“I … um. I’m sorry I took Victoire out of school,” he muttered. Harry sat down next to him and sighed.    
  
“Believe me, I didn’t want to send her back. It’s weird, you know … when you’re at school you think teachers love taking points and stuff. But I have to tell kids off for breaking rules that I broke, and it makes me feel like - well -”   
  
“A massive hypocrite,” Ted suggested.    
  
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”   
  
“I dunno,” said Ron. “I reckon there were definitely a few teachers who really enjoyed being a dick.”   
  
Harry had to concede that this was true.    
  
“Next time,” he told Ted, “come and see Victoire on a Sunday. I’m usually at the Burrow then.”   
  
Ted grinned. “Will do.”   
  
“And - if you’ve got a free Saturday - maybe come and see your old godfather once in a while.”   
  
“Awwww. Do you miss me?”   
  
“All right. Don’t make it weird.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Are Super Soakers still a thing? When I was a kid we only had one between the two of us, so it was never really a fair fight ...


End file.
